


Balance Point

by UselessLilium (o0whitelily0o)



Series: Following the shepherd [1]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0whitelily0o/pseuds/UselessLilium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Role swap AU: For his favorite child, God blessed Abel with everlasting life and memory. For his cursed older brother, Abel turned his back on God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters of this I'll actually write, but I'll update the tags as necessary as I go.

When you finally see Cain again, you let out a breath you feel you’ve been holding ever since you were born for the second time.

You had heard from angels, years ago, that Cain had been allowed to live out his life in peace after he killed you. He’d been punished, but given time to atone, to redeem himself. It hadn’t mattered. His soul was damaged by that act and the hatred that drove him to it, and when he died too it plummeted into Hell and became a demon.

It was only after that you were reborn, when you would be safe from him. God was wise, He knew far better than you. Even if you wanted to see your brother again, to ask him why he did that to you, if God decided you shouldn’t, you would have to accept that was simply the best choice.

But when you see, you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s him. It’s in his eyes, his movements, the pattern of his breathing. God saved him too, you are certain. The hate that had damned him, that killed you, God took that all away and gave him another chance too. You feel ashamed of ever having doubted His judgement - His kindness, His mercy, they truly knew no limit.

You can’t help yourself. You run at him and throw your arms around him, laughing and ready to forgive him too.

He stiffens under you, jerks away, and in spite of your joy you find it has not been long enough to not fear his anger. But when you step back and look at him you only see confusion.

“Who are you?”

 

* * *

 

God is merciful, the angels tell you after a night of desperate prayers. He gave Cain the same chance He gave you, the chance to start over. Even in the deepest depths of Hell, He lifted Cain's soul back up and out and allowed him to live again on earth.

Losing his memories is normal, for a human brought back. Keeping your own was part of God’s gift to you, a special blessing for His beloved child.

It hurt, to think that Cain would not remember you, but you thought you understood. You’d been allowed the privilege to find your brother again, to live with him happily again, to get a second chance to do everything right.

The next day, you go back to him and apologize for the misunderstanding. You introduce yourself properly, with the name this life has given you, listen to his, and begin anew.

 

* * *

 

Your second life is a good one, and you expect it to be your last. Surely you and your brother have both earned your rest and a place at God’s side. But your third life begins before you even realize it, and when you do you start wondering what you had misunderstood.

The angels still come when you pray, but they offer no further clarity.

“You have been blessed, oh beloved Abel,” is their eternal refrain, “You have been given everlasting life and memory. It is God’s gift to you.”

You try to press further, but that is all they will ever give you. Eventually, you stop looking to them for answers.

You don’t see Cain in this life. You wonder if perhaps that was His intention? Perhaps Cain has been taken up to Him after all, and you can live your third life free from guilt and your older brother’s echo. You hope so, even if the thought makes you feel lonely. If he has returned to God, then perhaps he will remember you when you join him.

 

* * *

 

Your fourth life arrives, and in it the doubt that had taken root begins to grow. It does not fully sprout, however, until your sixth, when you see your older brother yet again.

He is younger than you this time, by quite a lot. You are almost fifty, and he looks barely ten, but you recognize him just the same. You don’t approach him this time. You want to believe you were wrong, that you mistook a stranger for the brother you miss dearly. You leave that place, find a new town to settle in, and tell yourself that Cain is safely with God.

But your lives continue and you keep seeing him. You don’t try to repeat that second life, where you approached him and the two of you built a new life together, but you see him nevertheless. In glimpses and glances, so close you could reach out and touch him any time. You don’t. You don’t know what you’re expected to do about him. In one life, you wonder if perhaps you’re meant to kill him, to get justice somehow, but it’s a thought you don’t entertain for long. God has already punished him, and he wouldn’t remember what you were killing him for. There’d be no point.

So all that’s left is to watch. God has given you this gift, He must have something He wants you to do with it. And why else leave Cain here instead of accepting him and allowing him to pass on, if he was uninvolved?

It is in watching that you start to notice. You pass it off as coincidence, but as your lives roll on and you spot him again and again, there are patterns that arise.

He can’t grow anything anymore. In lives where he is a child of a farmer, the crops wither when he’s sent to work on them. People avoid him, some even refusing to touch him. Accidents strike his enemies with a consistency that can only be divine or demonic, and there’s no question which everyone thinks it is. Whispers of curses and witchcraft follow your older brother, no matter where he’s born, and you finally think to ask what, exactly, was the punishment he’d been given.

The angels answer your prayers, and though it’s been lifetimes since you’ve done so this directly they are as polite and reverent as always. The ground upon which Cain spilt your blood has been cursed, they tell you. All will sense the mark of Cain. All who harm the one bearing it will be harmed sevenfold themselves. These are the burdens that your older brother must bear in every one of his lives.

“That’s not fair,” you try to protest, “He doesn’t even remember who he is or what he’s done! How can you keep punishing him when he doesn’t know what it’s for?”

They stare at you.

“But you remember, oh most beloved Abel.”

And then, finally, it is clear. You bow your head and apologize for raising your voice, and they accept it with silent nods and leave you be, alone again with your understanding.

As long as you remember him, he is still Cain.

As long as he is Cain, his punishment is still just.

You will live and remember forever, and he will be punished forever, a show set up just for you and God.

You fall back against your bed, hand over your mouth, and feel hate, real hate, cold and hard and splintering in your heart, for the first time in your lives.

 

* * *

 

It is countless death and rebirths later, when you find your positions completely reversed. Your older brother is now your younger brother, seven years younger, and so small and fragile when you come into his family’s house. He doesn’t talk much when you first arrive, and smiles even less. You think of Cain in his first life, and wonder how much you see now is nature and how much is his own endless cycle wearing on him, without him even knowing.

But you smile for him, read him the most interesting parts of your textbooks and let him keep the ones he likes best each year, and are less surprised than you act when you let him use the second-hand computer his parents gave you for studying and he takes to it with a speed and enthusiasm you can’t match. He’s always been smart, and even now, with all your accumulated knowledge, there are many ways you know he’s much brighter than you.

You think, not for the first time, that he might have figured a way out of this if he’d been allowed to remember too. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t.

But in this life, as the years move onwards even you can sense something is coming. The rapid growth of technology, the shrinking of the world, the warning cries of a costumed preacher on the street you pass to school; it’s all building up to another show, and you are certain your brother will not be allowed to miss this one either, one way or another.

This time though, you think with a smile, waiting to walk him home from school and wondering at the back of your mind how well you’d have to do on your tests to ask for a newer desktop, you have no intention of being the audience.


	2. Integration

You hate the whole idea of getting an older brother, right from the beginning, the second your parents sit you down and explain that your cousin will be coming to live with you all soon.

“He’s been through something very, very sad,” they explain, with that tired look they usually have when they talk to you, “So please try to get along with him, alright?” You know they know how you feel, it’s obvious. But if they’re expecting a fight, you don’t give it to them. You just nod and wait until they’ll let you get back to your books.

When they do, you curl protectively around the one in your hands. You know what other kids are like. They take your books and hide them in places you can’t reach, or make fun of your eyes and hair and call you a ghost, or throw their balls at you when the kindergarten teachers finally force you to play outside. They always say it’s an accident, but it happens too much for that to be true. The older ones are worst of all, and now one’s going to be living with you. You’d always looked forward to getting home from school, to be alone for a while, but now you won’t even have that.

You bite your lower lip. You think Mom and Dad will probably like him better. All the teachers like the other kids more.

There’s no point in arguing, though. You know that. Whatever you say, you can’t stop the boy from coming, and getting upset will just make Mom and Dad upset too. If you’re only going to have a little while longer to yourself, you should try and make the most of it.

 

* * *

 

They tell you, as the day of your cousin’s arrival creeps nearer and nearer, that there’s no need to be nervous. He won’t be a total stranger. You’d have seen him at the last big family gathering a few years ago, they’re almost certain of it.  You can’t remember that at all - you must’ve been too little - but you nod when they explain anyway.

And now, when you can make yourself pull your eyes up from the floor long enough to look at the boy standing before you in the hallway, he does look a little familiar. Maybe they were right.

“Naoya, this is Kazuya,” you mom says, a bit of a strain in her otherwise cheerful voice, “Go on, say hello.” She pushes you a few steps forward. You hesitate, fidget, then finally look up at your cousin, your ‘brother’, and something in your stomach twists and makes you feel sick.

He’s just... so big. And tall. Probably a _teenager_ , you bet. And he’s smiling at you. You decide you don’t like that smile at all. You don’t trust it. What does he have to smile about, isn’t he supposed to be sad? You almost step back, to try and hide behind your mom’s legs, but then she and your dad will sigh and apologize and look tired again. You should say ‘hi’, like they told you to, but the word won’t come out. It sticks in your throat and hurts, like you swallowed something too big too fast.

As you can feel your parents shifting uncomfortably behind you, Kazuya kneels down in front of you, so you’re both eye-to-eye. His are so blue, you notice. You bet no one makes fun of them.

“Hi. Your name’s Naoya, right?” Kazuya grins and holds out a hand to you, “It’s nice to meet you.”

You stare at it, then back up to Kazuya’s face. His smile stays put easily enough, but that only makes you think something’s not right even more. You don’t know much about this boy but you _know_ that he shouldn’t be smiling at you like that.

But your parents are right next to you, and you don’t want to mess up. So you take the offered hand and mutter, “Nice to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

The days pass, and Kazuya settles into the house like it was made for him. You hate that, how comfortable he acts, and even more you hate how obvious it is that Mom and Dad really do like him better.

Although you can’t blame them, you guess. He talks to them all the time, and always looks happy to. He answers them right away, tells stories about his day, asks questions back. Talking to him, they look relaxed. It’s nothing like the tense, insistent way they try to pull a response out of you. Guilt makes you squirm every time you see it, but how can you possibly imitate him? What could you tell them? That one of the kids almost poured a jar of paint into your hair to ‘fix’ it before a teacher stopped them? You don’t want them to know. That you’d stayed inside to read again instead of playing outside? They don’t want to hear that.

There’s nothing you can do but watch this older boy charm your parents more in a few weeks than you’d ever been able to.

You hate it. You hate him.

And the way he treats you is worst of all.

If he was just mean, you’d know how to handle that. You could avoid him, find places to hide, lock yourself up in your room when he came home. But instead, every day, as soon as he gets home from school he goes right to you. He sits down next to where you’ve curled up on the couch and asks what you’re reading, like he’s actually interested. It’s a lie, obviously. What thirteen-year old cared about kids books? You don’t even have any with real chapters yet. You’ve been wanting to ask your parents for some, but they’re already worried about how much you’d rather read than do anything else.

And then he’ll just hang around and work on his homework right there next to you. You don’t get it. Sometimes you think he’s looking at you, but whenever you look over at him to check he’s got his head down and looks focused on his work. And he never really does anything to bother you, exactly, and you really like that place on the couch, so you don’t leave.

Mostly you eye your cousin’s textbooks enviously. He doesn’t seem to read much apart from studying. Just more proof that he’s just trying to play nice at you with his questions.

And always - _always_ \- he keeps smiling at you.

You hate that more than anything. Just seeing it makes you tense up. What’s it for? What have you ever done to make him smile? At first it just felt fake, but the more you see it, the more it looks like he’s making fun of you. Did he know from the start that this would happen? That he’d be able to just walk in and be liked better and make you feel out of place in your own house?

He knows. He _likes_ it. That has to be it.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost a month after his arrival, but you finally snap. It’s dinner, and your parents are talking to him. Again. You put all your attention into your food, even if you can barely make yourself pick at it. Their voices all drone together and make you feel sick.

You name comes up, though, and that gets your attention, whether you want it to or not.

“-but Naoya’s going to start elementary school soon,” your dad says, “and he needs to learn how to put the effort into getting along with others.”

It’s something you’ve heard before, and what little appetite you had shrivels up. But Kazuya - Kazuya - he actually dares to say, right in front of you, “Hey, don’t you think that isn’t really fair?”

It’s the last insult you can take, that fake worry, that cheap attempt to stick up for you. You shove yourself away from the table, so hard you knock over your glass and spill water everywhere. You hear your mom gasp and start to scold you, but you’re already out of the room before her words can reach you. You bolt up the stairs and into your room, where you slam the door behind you.

And crumple back against it while you burst into tears.

You ruined _everything_ now. Mom and Dad are gonna be _furious_ at you. You hug your knees so tightly your hands tremble. Kazuya’s probably cleaning up the mess you made right now. He’s probably making more flimsy excuses for you and smiling like nothing’s wrong at all. And they’ll wind up liking you even less, and him even more.

It makes you so angry. It makes you so _tired_.

Behind you, there’s a knock at the door.

You jump and jerk away, eyeing it warily. Your parents, already? You don’t want to open it, but putting it off wouldn’t make them less mad. You bit your lower lip, but stand up and have your hand on the knob when a voice you don’t expect calls out.

“Naoya? Are you okay?”

Your cousin’s voice makes you freeze, then you yank your hand away from the doorknob and step back.

“Go _away_ ,” you say, hating how thick your voice sounds and how the words crack through it. There’s no answer, but neither is there any sound of him walking away.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, and for a moment, take you aback. “I made you pretty mad, huh?”

The question is enough of a joke to make your temper flash back up, and tears start pricking at your eyes all over again. You clench your fists and force out, “Just _stop it_. You _win_ , you don’t have to keep doing this anymore.”

“...What are you talking about? Do what?”

The confusion in his voice just makes you even madder. You can’t believe he’s still drawing this out, still pretending. “Mom and Dad like you enough already,” you spit out, “So you can stop acting so nice to me.”

There. It’s out. He knows you know. You’re shaking a little, you don’t know what he’ll do now. Hopefully just leave you alone.

But when he finally speaks again, he just says, “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

You want to scream. “Of course, why else would you do all this?”

“Naoya, that’s isn’t-”

“Stop _lying_ ,” you snarl, finally throwing the door open, daring him to try and lie right to your face, wanting him to trip up and drop this stupid, stupid act, “It’s obvious-”

But you’re the one who trips up when you see him.

His shoulders are still and hunched in on themselves, his head lowered and mouth a tight, trembling line. His fingers are intertwined, restlessly moving back and forth. He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but his eyes shine unusually in the hall light. You’re too stunned to continue. You’ve never seen him like this. Even though you’re looking up at him, he seems almost small. Even a little scared. Your stomach twists, and all the anger you’d built up to is doused by a hurt you don’t understand.

You remember what Mom and Dad told you about Kazuya. That he’d been through something very sad. That he’d lost his own mom and dad. You hadn’t forgotten, exactly, but when Kazuya slipped into your life so effortlessly, it’d been easy not to think about the reason he was there in the first place.

You drop your eyes and try to rekindle the remaining embers of anger. “I just...” You try, but there’s nothing left, just shame and guilt, and the words that fall out aren't what you planned. “I just don’t get it...”

“Get what?”

“...Why you keep smiling at me all the time.”

He says nothing to that, and as the seconds tick on, you become afraid to look up. You’re suddenly sure that whatever face he’s making right now is real. And mostly you think that when you finally look up you’ll see the sneer you always expected, you’ll hear him laugh at you for finally dropping your guard even though you’d figured out the game, and that will be that. You just know it. You want to run away, but you’re already in your room. There isn’t anywhere else to go.

You’re stuck like that, until Kazuya kneels down in front of you again. “Naoya.”

You hesitate... then look up.

He’s smiling again, but this one looks different. It’s smaller, weaker. The tension in him is all gone now, something helpless taking it’s place in the relaxed set of his shoulders and calm of his blue eyes.

It hits you, all at once, that he looks lonely.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been bothering you for a while now, haven't I?” He has, but you don’t want to say that to him anymore. Not when he looks like that. “I’ll leave you alone from now on. I promise.” It’s what you wanted him to say, but...

Before you know what you’re doing, you grab onto his sleeve. He looks startled, but waits there until you speak.

“You... you don’t have to,” you mutter, “We live together. It’d be really hard.”

He blinks, then laughs, and something in you loosens at the sound. You realize, for all his smiling, it’s the first time you’ve actually heard him laugh. “Well, you’ve got a point there.”

You snort. “So you were lying after all.”

“Was not!” But he’s grinning, in spite of his protest. “I’d have done my best anyway, really.”

You roll your eyes and look away, but you guess you believe him.

“...You can keep doing your homework with me and stuff,” you say, “But you don’t have to keep asking what I’m reading every time. You’ve got lots more interesting books, I bet.”

“Hm? Well, what you’ve got must be pretty good too, right? You’re always reading them.” You shrug, not really wanting to explain why they’re all you’ve got. He tilts his head and makes a soft questioning sound. “Well, if you’re that curious about mine, I could read them to you.”

Your head whips back to him, and you know you look way too eager, but you can’t help it. “Really? You would?”

“‘Course! Anytime you want.”

The offer, made so freely and easily, raises your suspicions again. But you think you get it now. Kazuya’d had another home before this one. He had friends and family, and all that was gone. You don’t know if he has any new friends at his school yet, but he’s never brought anyone over, so maybe not. And if not... then you think it makes sense, why he’s always hanging around you. Why he wants to be nice to you. He doesn’t have anyone else anymore.

You shift from one foot to the other, make up your mind, and ask, “Is now okay?”

Kazuya beams.

“Sure! I’ve still got some older books saved too, we can start with those.”

You nod and start walking past him to his room. He laughs again and follows you out, overtaking you in just a couple of steps. Must be nice to be so tall. You’ll get that big too, you decide, some day. You settle onto his futon while he looks for his books. It’s the first time you’ve been in this room since he moved in to it, you realize. He still has half-packed boxes all over the place. You wonder if Mom and Dad have scolded him for that yet.

Thinking that, though, reminds you of what happened earlier. You draw up your knees to your chest again while you wait for him. “...Are Mom and Dad really angry?”

He looks over his shoulder at you. “A little,” he says, but shrugs and keeps rummaging through his box, “It’s not that bad though. Just give it some time, they’ll calm down soon.”

That doesn’t make you feel much better. You fidget, and have to ask, “Do you really not think they’re right?”

“What do you mean?”

“About- about me not doing enough to get along with people.”

He pauses, and when he answers, his voice is harder than you expected. “I think they shouldn’t be the ones to decide if you’re trying your best or not. And I think you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he looks up at you and smiles. This one doesn’t look like any you’ve seen before from him either. It reminds you of a big dog you saw once, and the look it had right before it lunged and strained its leash to try and bite at you. “Things like that should all be up to you.”

Then it’s gone, his expression relaxed back into it’s usual smile, and before you can ask what he means, he’s already sitting next to you and asking what you’d like him to read first. And before long, you’re too wrapped up in the words to think about anything else.

You don’t know how long you listen to him read, or when exactly you fall asleep. But as you start drifting off, Kazuya’s voice relaxing and even next to you, you think that even if you didn’t really want a big brother, maybe you could give having one a chance.


	3. Mitigation

The first thing you do after the chains around you shatter and fall is to walk. As far away from this place and its gods as you can. There is nothing to bind you to either anymore, and you have no intention of waiting around to get caught up in their messes again. You leave everyone you’ve known behind, and no one comes looking for you. You knew they wouldn’t.

Instead, you bury yourself amongst humans.

You love humanity. They learn so quickly, and rebuild even faster, no matter what disasters or tragedies are thrown at them. You find yourself learning from them as often as you teach. And when you linger in one place too long, when you feel attachments starting to form, you can sever them cleanly and move on to the next place. The world is far too big and full of far too much to just stay in one place.

So you don’t remember the first time you encounter Abel. Or the second. Or even the third. Really, you’d probably have missed the fourth too, if he didn’t approach you directly to ask, “Haven’t I see you before, back in Kemet?”

Not that odd of a question, if the last time you’d been that far south hadn’t been several centuries ago. That and the ease with which it was asked catches you off-guard, and while you fumble for an answer, the strange young man beams and says, “It was you, wasn’t it? You looked exactly the same back then, I couldn’t mistake that.”

It’s true, you never bothered much with varying up your human appearance. You tweak the age every now and then, but any more than that’s pointless when you move around so often. Or so you’d thought.

You stare at him for a few seconds before you speak, trying to feel for any hint of power, divine or otherwise, from him. But he’s completely and utterly human, hardly different from any other passing by. The only thing that strikes you is the oddly solid weight to his soul, and the utter lack of taste that radiates from it. It fascinates you as much as it unsettles you.

He is nothing if not a curiosity, and you love curiosities. So you grin back at him, and admit you’ve been caught.

 

* * *

 

His story comes out more easily than you expected - you get the feeling he’s wanted to talk to someone about it for a long time now. He tells you of YHVH and his blessing. His older brother and his curse. Parts of every life he remembers, in exact detail. And, of course, the three times before now that he’s recognized you.

“The first couple I thought was just coincidence, but I figured there was no way I’d keep running into people who just happened to be identical over and over.”

It is an impressive memory, though it makes you feel a little bad for not picking up on him any earlier, even if he did look different each time. “You weren’t worried? Just walking up to something you don’t think is human’s pretty dangerous.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “Even if you killed me, I’d just come back again. And you never caused trouble the other times I’d seen you. I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

He really is interesting. And he’s been honest with you, it can’t hurt to return the favor. “Well I’m glad you did,” you grin, and let a little bit of fang show, “It’s nice to meet you Abel. I’m Prometheus.”

 

* * *

 

You ask him about Cain one day, and he takes you out to the market to point him out to you. He looks much older than Abel, with a hard and wary air around him. It feels familiar, and once you see his red eyes and get a sense for his soul, you know you’ve seen him before. Even in passing, it stands out unmistakably. There’s something dark and powerful in it, albeit only a piece, safely smothered under age and ignorance.

It almost as if the people around him can feel it too. No one gets in his way. One who he bumps into rubs at the point of contact like it’s dirty. They don’t seem to realize they’re doing it, but it’s clear he knows.

You turn a little to watch Abel watch him. He’s obviously practiced looking casual, but there’s an angry, desperate edge under it that he can’t keep down. You find yourself, for the first time in ages, wondering about Epimetheus. If he ever looked up towards your mountain like that. But you suppose it’s far more likely if he did, it was only after you had already been rescued. Hindsight was what he was best at, after all.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t much longer after that, only two or three years, that you leave again. You can feel your attachment to Abel growing and strengthening, in every conversation, each shared meal, every time you hear him laugh. It’s suffocating, and if you stay there any longer you’re scared you’ll never be able to move again. So you break it off there, without saying a word to him, and go. North this time, you think. Far, far north.

You don’t keep track of the years, but eventually you run into him again. And again, he finds you first.

“How could you just disappear like that?” he hisses, "I was worried about you, thought one of the angels went after you or something." And you know you have no right to complain or apologize.

But for all your cleverness, all your words, you don’t know how to explain it to him. How anything holding you in one place terrifies you, how he’s starting to be that to you, how just looking at him and thinking about staying near him chokes you. You don’t know how to say any of that, at least not in a way that doesn’t sound pathetic. But he watches you fidget and start and stop, and eventually just says, “Look, I - it’s alright if you have to leave. Just let me know first, please?”

After a while, you nod and agree, and when he smiles at you, soft and relieved, the fear that hits you is more exhilarating than unpleasant.

 

* * *

 

You avoid routine, and never spend any specific length of time near or apart from him. When you feel that panic start to strangle you, you just leave, either saying good-bye in person or leaving a note. He accepts either, and doesn’t question or ask you to stay longer. But running into him again eventually is a certainty, and you don’t know how to feel about that. Sometimes it’s a comfort, knowing that there’s one friend who you can always see again no matter how much time you spend away. Sometimes it’s a threat, that there’s one permanent fixture in your life that you’ll never be able to break away from. Sometimes it’s both, and just being around him and embracing that permanence gives you a rush like nothing else and leaves you reeling in his presence.

But what it comes down to, in spite of your conflicted feelings, is just that you like him. He’s fun and insightful and fiercely protective, and the millenia he’s been living have only honed his focus. You watch him and his brother, listen to his plans that never quite come together, and have no doubt that it’s only a matter of time until one of them does.

He’s your friend, and you don’t want to lose him to anything, especially not your own paranoia.

So after a while, you’re the one picking him out of the crowd and surprising him with greetings.

And when you finally catch sight of him again after a particularly long time apart - in Japan this time - you don’t think anything at all of throwing your arms around him to get his attention. You don’t even notice the white-haired boy next to him until he interrupts your chattering with a small, serious, “Who’s this?”

When you see him, though, you recognize his soul right away. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Cain too, now that you think about it. You don’t think he was this nearby in Abel’s last life.

“Ah, sorry Naoya,” Abel says, stepping aside so the two of you can see each other, “This is a friend of mine from before I moved. His name’s-”

“Atsuro,” you supply smoothly. It’s a routine both of you are used to, dancing around identities until the other could provide their current one. Blurting out your real names would sound strange in any time. “Sorry about that, kid, I didn’t mean to barge in on you two. Just got a little carried away for a sec.”

He stares up at you, red eyes bearing into yours critically, and without answering steps a little closer to Abel. Weird. Usually Abel didn’t have much opportunity to get this close to his brother, if you remember right. You suddenly want to know how this life’s been treating them both, very badly.

You drop one arm, and keep the other slung around your friend’s shoulders. “Y’know, we’ve got a ton of catching up to do. Any chance you’ve got time to hang today?”

Abel’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. “Ahh, well-”

“He’s busy,” Naoya interrupts, still glaring at you and tugging on Abel’s sleeve.

He laughs a bit and shrugs his free shoulder, “Sorry, he’s right, I already promised I’d help him with a project. But give me your cell phone, I’ll put my number in.”

Even a few years ago it’d be a lucky thing if you had a cell phone. But they’re everywhere now, and you love getting your hands on each new invention humans come up with. You hand yours over, wait, and try not to let Naoya pick up on how you’re watching him from the corner of your eye. There’s something a little different about Cain’s soul this time, but you can’t pin it down.

When you get your phone back, you memorize the name over the number. ‘Kazuya’ this time.

“Alright, Kaz, I’ll call you soon,” you grin, flipping your phone closed and tucking it back into your pocket. “And nice meeting you, Naoya.”

He doesn’t answer, and you don’t expect him to, but he does wave at you with his free hand before you turn and leave, practically bouncing from curiosity.

 

* * *

 

He comes over at least once a week after that, whether you’ve made exact plans or not. Sometimes he talks about his plans and ideas for this life - he’s certain that this is the one he can finally act in, and you think he’s right. The Bels are getting restless again, clamoring for support and alliances. The world is moving so quickly, you can’t imagine YHVH not wanting to stick his nose into it and call everything to a halt. And when he says that the set-up with Cain feels a little too convenient, you can’t argue.

His plans are still half-formed right now, but he has an end goal. Make his brother your next overlord. You think of the shift in Cain's soul, the slow incubation of that small, dark piece, and don’t argue with that either.

But just as often he comes to gripe about school or the pressure he’s under to apply for university or brag about Naoya. Not that you mind, especially the last one. You’ve seen so little of Cain in person, it’s fun to hear Abel tell new, nicer stories about him. And you’ve always liked smart humans.

One day when he surprises you with a visit, you have to admit you’ve got work to do. Immortal you may be, but the apartment doesn’t pay for itself. He watches you work away at your computer, occasionally plopping his head on your shoulder to get a closer look.

“Man, no matter how hard I try I just can’t make head’s or tails of this stuff,” he sighs, before wandering back to your couch.

“What, can’t keep up with technology again?” you tease without looking up, “Took you a while to get used to cars too, didn’t it?”

“Hey, those things were death traps when they first came out. Excuse me for not wanting to risk having to slog through puberty again after I just got done with it.”

You snort at him, and get a cushion thrown at your head in response. With a grin, you turn to grab it off the floor and chuck it back, but you see him looking at you with unexpected seriousness and pause.

“How good are you at that, exactly?” he asks, pointing at your computer screen.

“Programming, you mean? Well, I don’t-”

“Prometheus.”

Not the time for modesty then. “Alright, fine, I’m basically amazing. I’ve been learning how since I could first get my hands on a computer, after all. Why?”

He pauses, looks awkward. Hesitance is not something you usually see from him.

“I ... okay listen, I kind of have an idea. It’s really far off from being complete, let alone actually being put to use ...  but it’ll go faster if I have someone working with me who knows how to code.”

He must see the way you tense up, because he waves a hands and continues more quickly. “It doesn’t have to be you, if you can’t stay. If you know anyone else nearby you could recommend, that would be great, or I’ll find someone on my own. But...” he steadies, looks you in the eye, “I want your help with this, if you can give it.”

The impulse to run surges, almost chokes you - and you swallow it down. You force yourself to stay calm and listen to what he’s asking.

“How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Another four or five years. No longer than that.”

It’s not the most time you’ve spent with him at once, but the time itself doesn’t matter. It’s that if you agree, you’ll have to stay put, whatever else happens. He’ll be counting on you, and breaking that promise could upset the plans he might finally be able to put into action. You’ll be chained to this place and this scheme.

You’re scared. Of what he’s asking, of disappointing him. You should say no, that it’d be best to leave you out of his plans altogether. You know he’d understand why, he won’t hold it against you.

But he’s your friend. And he’s asking you for help.

And if you’re honest, he’s not the only one who’d like to see that arrogant god of his taken down a notch.

You close your eyes, let out a shaky breath, and when you open them, you smile and answer honestly, “I think I can manage that. Doubt anywhere else in the world will be as interesting as here once it this all comes together anyway.”

The relief on his face wipes out any hesitation you still had.

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

You don’t talk about it much more after that - he promises to let you know more once he’s worked out the details, and you’re content to let it drop for tonight. Since you’re busy he’s not staying over, but as he’s leaving he turns and says, “Oh, there’s one other thing I wanted to ask.”

“What?”

“Naoya’s gotten interested in programming too. I don’t know much, but even I can tell he’s got talent for it,” he grins, “Any chance you’d be interested in tutoring?”


	4. Disconnection

When you were a child, your father may as well have been God to you. You had no mother that you could remember, no brothers or sisters, and no neighbors young enough to play with. He was your entire world. Pleasing him was your purpose in life. When he told you to always remain composed and quiet, you did. When he told you about gods and demons, you accepted it all as fact. When he told you a great ordeal would one day be given to humanity, you believed it inevitable. Questioning him, going against him - both were unthinkable.

School was the only place devoid of his influence. You were never quite sure how to feel about that. Lonely, maybe. You had a hard time talking to the other children. You weren’t supposed to laugh or smile like they all did, you didn’t know any of the games they wanted to play, and the stories you repeated from your father scared most of them away.

But even so, you found you liked school. There were so many things to learn that your father hadn’t taught you. And, you discovered, you were very good at learning. Sometimes the classmates who you couldn’t play with would ask you for help with homework or notes they didn’t understand, so regardless of how easy or interesting it was, you always found it worthwhile.

When you were about to start middle school, your father nearly pulled you out. “I can teach you everything you need to know myself,” he said, “You don’t need to focus on anything but the coming ordeal.”

You had accepted that too, but the plan fell through. He was spending a lot of time trying to start his organization - the Shomonkai, he called it - and its numbers were beginning to take off. Splitting his focus between running it and taking on your education would be too much, and trying might attract attention from people who wouldn’t understand. You told him it was fine, you did understand, and you could manage middle school and his teachings. He’d smiled and said he was counting on you to do just that.

 

* * *

 

In your first year, you have a classmate that stands out even more than you did. By now, you’ve learned to carry a conversation without descending into topics that might frighten the other students, even if most of what your classmates talked about regarding television or music or fashion went over your head. You hear some whispers about your father’s activities follow you, but they die out quickly. Most of your classmates are happy to chat or ask for help with the lessons. They even elect you class representative when the time comes, something that gives you a little flutter of pride, in spite of yourself.

No, as far as most of your class is concerned, the really strange one is Naoya Minegishi.

Certainly, he stands out. He never talks to anyone if he can avoid it, and if he can’t he’d deflect with sarcasm until he can get away. But, you think, none of that is particularly unusual. There are plenty of quiet students in the school, after all. And he’s clearly very smart - his grades are consistently the only ones that could compete with yours.

But as the year continues, you hear stories about him, whether you want to or not. Old classmates of his had gotten injured with unsettling regularity. One even broke an arm last year. No one quite dares to point the finger explicitly, but they talk about the strange books he read even back then, how creepy his bright red eyes are, and the implication was clear.

You admit that some of the things you’ve heard are odd. But Naoya avoids people whenever he can, you can’t imagine him going out of his way to interact with someone, even to hurt them. And from the sound of it he hadn’t read anything all that different from your father, and your father never hurt anyone, he wants to save them. No, the rumors are likely just that, and seeing your classmates buy into them without reservation is more than a little frustrating.

Even so, you barely speak to him yourself. He dislikes being interrupted, after all, and you don’t know what you’d even talk about if you did.

But by fall, there’s one boy in particular who seems to have nothing better to do with his time than antagonize Naoya. You try to do something about it, but it was always such little things - ‘accidental’ shoves, grabbing his books out of his hands to flip through them, tossing wads of paper at him - and Naoya never reacts with anything more than glares or insults before stalking off the first chance he gets. It’s difficult to make the teachers take it seriously. You’re still struggling with what to do when one day you hear that boy fell down a flight of stairs. Shortly after that, you hear Naoya pushed him.

Supposedly, people saw it. The boy had been badgering Naoya about something he was reading, it had gotten physical, and Naoya ended it by shoving him down the stairwell. No one could agree on how bad the boy had been hurt, only that he’d been knocked unconscious.

“Is that what you saw?” you ask the group gossiping next to your desk. Their flinch is practically synchronized, and under your stare a few start to fidget.

“Well, no, not personally,” one of the girls finally admits, “But c’mon, it’s way too much of a coincidence, he had to have done it. The teachers called him to the office and everything!”

You stand, drawing yourself up to your full height. Though you’re still a good few inches shorter then most of them, they shrink away anyway. “Coincidences happen all the time. Until someone says they actually saw Minegishi touch this boy, there’s no proof he did anything. I expect better from you than to spread around lies.”

The girl who spoke to you just nods, looking abashed. You turn to your other classmates still hanging around, and say, “That goes for all of you.”

They all nod, just as silent, and you do feel a little bad - you haven’t seen anyone look so nervous just from talking to you in some time - but you’ve had enough of hearing about this. And you feel somewhat guilty too. After all, you weren’t able to stop that boy from harassing Naoya. Whatever happened, you can’t help feeling partially responsible for it.

There’s a conspicuous lack of gossip about Naoya the rest of that week - or any gossip at all, around you. You're glad - your point stuck after all. Even when the boy comes back to class, he shrugs off the subject and gives Naoya the wide berth he’s always made it clear he wanted.

It’s about a week later when he approaches your desk, after the rest of your class had left for the day and you were organizing some papers as a favor for your teacher.

“Hey,” he says. You can’t help but blink in bafflement up at him. He’s stiff and clearly uncomfortable, but looks you in the eye. “So did you actually stick up for me, or are people just talking you up?”

You blink again. This is really not how you expected your afternoon to go. “If you mean about the incident last week, all I did was ask some students not to spread unfounded rumors.”

He doesn’t fidget, but his rigid lack of movement is just as telling. “Well. Guess I should say thanks or something.”

“It’s fine, I’d have done the same for anyone.”

He exhales sharply. It almost sounds like a laugh. “Don’t you enjoy your title, Miss Class Rep.”

“Enjoy it or not, I have it, and I intend to take it seriously.”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t seem to know what to do next. Neither do you. These are the most words you’d exchanged with him all year.

“Still,” he says, more softly, less grudgingly, “Thanks.”

Not much, but it does help you relax a little. You nod. “You’re welcome.”

As you say that, though, the book he’s holding catches your eye.

“...Mesopotamian mythology?”

He flinches a little, and looks for a moment like he’d forgotten he was holding it. Then he stiffens back up and hold it tighter, practically growling, “What I read’s not any of your business.”

“No, I didn’t mean anything by it,” you waved a hand in reassurance, “I just didn’t know you were interested in that. I actually have a couple of books at home about the subject. Do you want me to bring one in?”

That gets his attention. His eyes widen, and he jerks forward a little. On anyone else, it wouldn’t be much of a change, and it’s only a couple of seconds before he catches himself and straightens again, but it’s easily the most excited you’d ever seen him.

“Well, I’m almost done with this one so, I guess, if you want. May as well see if it’s worth my time.”

His attitude might have been insulting, if you hadn’t just seen him practically bouncing in place. You have to remember not to smile. “Alright, I’ll bring one in tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

You’re true to your word, and bring another the next day, and then another two days after that, and before you know it you’ve snuck what feels like half your father’s collection into school. You feel guilty and on-edge while you wait for him to notice, but Naoya reads quickly and they’re never gone long enough. And even more than the guilt, you feel relieved that you can finally talk to someone about all the stories you’ve learned over the years. Naoya clearly doesn’t believe most of what you tell him, at least not the way that you do, but he listens attentively and seriously, and you appreciate just that.

Before you know it, you start talking about things other than ancient civilizations and demons too. He tells you about his programming hobby, you point out a few good secondhand bookstores nearby, and when finals come around you trade notes and study together. Privately, you’ve decided to go at your exams with beating him as your goal. You suspect, from the critical way he looks over your papers, that he’s doing the same, and you have to hold back a smile each time he does. It’s a lot of little things with no particular point, other than being nice to talk to him.

Still, you know this is a temporary thing. And honestly, you’re not really sure if he likes you, or if he just talks to you because you’re the only one who shares his obscure interests. You don’t spend much time together outside of school, after all, with your curfew and his projects. You can’t even stay in touch over breaks, since your father hasn’t allowed you to get a cell phone. No one is more surprised than you when, even though you have different homerooms, he stops you in the hall to ask if you have time to go over a translation he was having some trouble with before you go home.

Last year’s routine repeats easily, but every time you attend a Shomonkai meeting at your father’s side, you’re reminded that it’s not going to last. You have until the end of middle school, and then you’ll have to give your all to helping your father. You won’t have any time to spare then.

You never knew how to feel about being separated from your father. You know how to feel about the prospect of ending this quiet, tentative relationship even less.

In 8th grade, though, you have to figure it out. A part of you just wants to ignore the inevitable, to enjoy what you have while it still lasts. But only a month in, and Naoya’s complaining about his parents and their badgering about entrance exams.

“I don’t know why they’re so bothered, they’re not the ones taking any,” he says, flipping casually through his textbook, “Schools are all the pretty much the same anyway. It’s not like it matters that much.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and try to think of a way to change the subject. Before you can, he looks over at you and asks, “How about you? Know what high schools you’re going to apply for yet?”

“I...," you hesitate, but decide to be honest, "I don’t think I’ll be applying for any.”

He sits up straighter and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What? Why?”

“Well...” He has suspicions, you’re sure, but you’ve never told to him explicitly about your father’s activities, and you don’t want to explain it all now. “It was something my father and I agreed on a while ago. He needs my help with his work, so once I’ve graduated here, that’s what I need to focus my time on.”

“That’s ridiculous. You already spend plenty of time helping him outside of school, don’t you? There’s no reason you can’t keep doing that.”

“His work is very time-consuming, and very important,” you explain, trying to remain patient, “Far more than a few extra years in school would be. And like I said, it was decided a while ago.”

“By who, you or him?” You falter at the question, and he jumps all over it, “So you’re just gonna let him run your life? I thought you had more backbone than that. There’s no reason at all for you not to go to high school, it should be an easy choice!”

At that, you glare at him, and say, “Then I suppose I should let you run it instead?”

He stops, mouth snapping shut. After a few seconds, he starts to say, “That’s not what I meant-”, but you’ve no interest in talking about this any more. You stand up, tell him you need to get home, and leave the classroom without another word.

 

* * *

 

He spends the next few days avoiding you, which you suppose is fair, because you’re avoiding him too.

He doesn’t understand anything. He doesn’t understand how important what your father’s doing is. What good would three more years in school even do you, when the ordeal comes and mankind’s worth must be proven? You don’t even know if you have three more years until that happens. High school is pointless - really, middle school was pointless too. You should have figured out a way to avoid it altogether.

But...

You sit in the Shomonkai’s weekly meeting as silent as ever, but this time your thoughts are elsewhere. You don’t hear even a word of your father’s speech, or any of the followers’ announcements. As you sit in front of rows of people who stare at your father and through you, you start to realize you’ve been more comfortable talking to Naoya about demon courts and ancient scriptures than you’ve ever felt at one of these meetings. Under the dozens of eyes, you feel a need to get out.

You stiffen instead, shift in your seat, and when the meeting is over your father tells you that he expects your focus to be better next week.

 

* * *

 

Halfway through the week, Naoya finally approaches you again. He starts to say something, pauses under your wordless stare, then forces out, “Can we talk? Alone?”

“...Alright.”

The two of you duck into an empty classroom, and you wait for him to speak. It takes a while. He doesn’t look at you, and keeps running his hand through his hair. Eventually, he mutters something.

“What?”

“I said,” he tries again, heaving it out alongside a sigh, “I’m sorry.”

He glances up at you, but you give him a pointed look and make it clear you expect more. He looks back down and continues, “You were right. I was just forcing my opinion onto you. I shouldn’t have done that.” And because just ending there might have been alright, he keeps going, “Even if I think you not continuing school is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.”

Your lips twitch into a frown, and you say, “Well, I accept your apology. But if you’re going to keep bringing that up-”

“No, I - sorry, that's not what I meant to say. There’s just... something else.” You wait. He goes still, takes a breath. “Actually I - you see - well, every school I’ve been in has been pretty much the same. High school’s probably going to be the same too, so I really couldn’t care less which one I go to. But I was thinking that... maybe if I at least went to the same one as you, it might be a little more interesting.”

That... you weren’t expecting. You don’t know how to respond to it at all.

He sighs, softer. “But that was just something I thought of on my own too. I shouldn’t have taken your feelings for granted. So, I’m sorry.” While you’re still trying to absorb what he said - that he actually wanted to go to high school with you, not just let this friendship run it’s course - he seems to take you silence badly and hurriedly reaches around in his bag and holds something out for you. You take it, more as an automatic reaction than anything you’re really thinking about. It’s an MP3 player.

“You said your birthday was this month, right? Well, there’s your gift. I didn’t know what kind of music you like, but my cousin picked some things too, so there’s a good variety, and if you want more of anything on there you can let me know-” He’s babbling, realizes it, and stops abruptly. You don’t know what to do. It’s too much all at once. Absurdly, you almost feel like crying.

You don’t. Instead, you close your hand around the present, look up at him, and smile. “Thank you. I can’t wait to listen to it.”

 

* * *

 

That night you have the house to yourself - even on nights without meetings, your father has been spending a lot of time out these days - and you try out your gift. As you listen to the music, it hits you all at once that you really don’t know what to do anymore. To be honest, you didn’t have any idea that Naoya valued your friendship beyond a pleasant conversation partner. Maybe you should have realized sooner. Naoya doesn’t waste time on anything or anyone he doesn’t care about, and he’s spent the last couple of years talking to you almost every day. But then, you’d never really had a friend before yourself. You didn’t know it could happen that easily, without even being on purpose.

Now you’re left to work through how you feel. You want to help your father. You’ve always wanted to help him, for as long as you can remember, and you know he’s waiting until you’re out of school before he really lets you do anything important.

But you like school. Even aside from Naoya, you like studying and accomplishing goals you’ve set for yourself and helping to lead the class (you were elected a representative all three years, even after your chilly shut-down in 6th grade). You don’t want to act like the last three years were meaningless and throw what you’ve built for yourself away. And you’re curious, what kind of challenges or opportunities you might get in you keep going.

You sit in your room and try to figure out what to do, when a song far different from the moody instrumentals that have been playing so far comes up.

It’s bright. That’s the first impression you’re left with. The song is bright, and cheerful, and you barely listen to the lyrics - the melody, of the music and the voice, is strong enough on it’s own. When it’s over, you go back and listen to it again, and you check the artist’s name. ‘D-Va’. You think you heard some of your classmates talking about them. An idol group with a new lead singer, if you remember right.

You click back and listen for a third time, let the energy of the song reverberate in your head. Did Naoya put on any others by this group? You scroll through the listings - only a couple of their hits, not a full album, but you listen to them all. The lyrics and melodies are different, of course, but they all have that same feeling to them - something bright, bright and encouraging and even powerful. You’ve never heard anything like it before.

As the songs play, you start to look around at your room. It’s almost entirely empty, apart from your furniture. No decorations, no things of your own. You think of what your father’s told you. That if you were going to be a maiden who could help him, you didn’t need anything. Not feelings. Not attachments. Nothing but his word and your duty.

You let the music run, make up your mind, and decide you’ll ask Naoya to put on as many of this band’s songs as there are.

 

* * *

 

“Father.”

He’s home very late tonight, but you’ve stayed up to catch him. You need to do this now, tonight, before you can second-guess yourself. He smiles when he sees you’re awake, and crosses the room to you. “Ah, Amane, good, I wanted to talk to you about the agenda for this week. I have a draft of your speech and-”

“Father, I need to tell you something first.”

He stop. You try to remember if you’ve ever interrupted him before. Maybe not. He says, a little unnerved, “Well, alright, but keep it brief.”

You take a breath. You were taught composure at all cost, and right now you’re immeasurably grateful. “I’m going to apply for high school.”

He says nothing. He doesn’t react at all. You keep going.

“I still want to be part of the Shomonkai. I won’t let my duties slack, and I intend to do everything I can to help you.” Still nothing. You straighten and look him in the eye, and hope he’s listening to you. “But I need to keep going to school. There’s still too many things for me to learn, and if I stop now I’ll be giving up on all of that. I can’t do that, and I don’t want to.”

Not a word. His mouth is a hard line, and you can’t read his expression at all. You suppose yours is much the same. In the end, though, you’re the one to break first. “...Father?”

He draws his shoulders back, and clasps his hands behind his back before he answers. “Whether you continue your education or not is your decision. But if you do, I don’t want to see you show your face in another meeting.”

Your heart freezes, and that composure you’d held falters. “But I-”

“I ask all members of the Shomonkai to commit themselves completely,” he says, and there’s nothing in his voice. No sympathy, no bitterness, just cold statements of fact. “We cannot afford any leniency with the stakes we’re facing, and you are no exception to that.” You stare at him, but before you can even open your mouth to try and argue, he shakes his head. “No, I take that back. If you’re already doubting your commitment to this extent, then the Shomonkai has no more use for you. Go to high school or don’t. You aren’t part of this organization any more.”

He turns on his heel without another word and goes to his room. You stand there, alone, until you can trust yourself to walk back to your own without your legs shaking.

 

* * *

 

Soon you tell Naoya that you plan to go to high school after all. He’s less enthusiastic than you expected. Maybe he can guess what you’ve given up in exchange for it. But he agrees to get the rest of D-Va’s albums for you, even though you can tell by his tone that he’s questioning your taste in music. Must have been his cousin who put it on. He doesn’t let the topic linger, and it’s a relief.

You don’t know if you regret your decision or not, but you don’t back down from it. And really, even if you had hoped otherwise, you hadn’t expected your father to let you do both. But with your duty to both the Shomonkai and your father severed, you soon realize you’ve been left with more freedom than you know what to do with. You can go places after school. You can buy yourself a cell phone. You can visit Naoya’s house and make plans for what you’ll do next year.

Each choice is dizzying, all the more so when you remember the looming threat of God’s ordeal. You do still believe it will come eventually, but there’s no longer anything you can do about it. You’ve been barred from participating. All that’s left it you take the time you have - maybe a few years, maybe a few months, maybe a decade - and learn how to use it however you want.


	5. Acclimation

If you’re being honest, you’ve never been all that religious. Neither was your mom, really, but divorce is a pretty big change. Lots of people look for things to comfort them in times like this - or so you’re told when you mention it to a friend’s curious parent. You can’t exactly argue with that kind of reason, so apart from some grumbling, you try not to put up a fuss over going to the weekly meetings with her. Even though it means spending a Sunday away from your friends in a gloomy building with a bunch of people way older than you.

It’s not like the Shomonkai was actually all that bad itself, but you couldn’t take a lot of what the founder said in his sermons very seriously. You’d never thought much about God before, but it still didn’t seem right that he’d just show up one day and give humanity some big horrible trial and make everything harder. God was supposed to care about people, right? But your mom talked to you about it afterwards, when your questions about the meeting wouldn’t stay quiet. She said it was supposed to be a metaphor - that life itself was an ordeal, and it was through willpower and cooperation with others that people could overcome it.

You thought about that for a while... you guess raising a kid all by herself is a pretty big ordeal. And you don’t make it easier - these meetings are the only thing you don’t fight her over these days.

It makes sense that she’d find it all comforting.

Maybe your lack of belief should’ve made you turn the Founder down when Lady Amane stopped coming the meetings and he asked how you might feel about taking on her role. But actually, it made your choice super easy. After all, you’d only have to sit at the front of the room every week and recite a speech that he’d write for you. There would be no real ‘ordeal’ for you to lead the Shomonkai through, not in a literal sense. And in exchange, the founder offered to compensate you for your time out of the dues paid by the other members.

Your mom was furious you agreed without talking to her about it, but when you told her the amount you’d be getting paid, she couldn’t tell you to stop. Money was too tight, and with this you could move into a bigger apartment ... maybe even a house, if more members joined. The one you were both stuck in now was way too small. Living together was almost unbearable, and with her so tired from working all the time, there was no way to avoid grating on each other. This would help with everything!

You felt proud of getting such a good job before you were even out of middle school. A little guilty too - the founder obviously believed in what he was saying, or he wouldn’t have been so desperate to get you to help him. It kind of felt like taking advantage of him by letting him pay so much. But no way could you let such a good opportunity slip by!

 

* * *

 

By the end of the year, you and your mom are living in a nice house again. It’s still smaller than your old one, but that’s fine with you. There’s only two of you after all, and it’s miles better than that crummy apartment. Your mom is so much more relaxed now. You don’t think she’s all that comfortable with your new position in the Shomonkai, but she hasn’t said a word about it since that first fight. You think she gets it’s not really a big deal - just reading lines, like you expected. Sure, you have to go over to the headquarters a couple of times during the week for prepping, but it’s really no different than any other part-time job. Easier, probably!

It’s during one of those prep sessions when Founder Kuzuryuu tells you not to apply to high school.

“It’s not mandatory to continue your academics,” he says, “After you finish this year, I will take over teaching you anything else you need to know.”

“But that’s not fair!”, you try to protest, “I’ve been doing both just fine, and all my friends are going-”

“Your responsibility to the Shomonkai comes first. If high school is really so important to you, then you can of course apply. But you will no longer be able to act as our maiden.”

Your mouth shuts. Not being the maiden means no extra money. Which probably means not being able to afford your house any more. Even if you managed to work somewhere else in high school, there’s no way you’d earn anywhere close to what you are now.

...

You swallow the lump of protests in your throat. You guess there wasn’t really anything you need high school for. It’s not like you have any big plans, or even just a goal for yourself. Maybe this is your best shot at a job, considering how big the group’s getting. And... well. Honestly? You don’t hate being the maiden. Everyone watches and listens when you talk, and look at you with respect. It’s kinda nice, even if you’re reading a script right now.

After a while, you nod and say you’ll stay with the group. He smiles and pats your shoulder.

“You’ve made the right choice. The Shomonkai needs you far more than anyone else.”

 

* * *

 

When the spring comes and your friends are off at their high schools of choice, you go straight to the Shomonkai headquarters almost every day. Luckily it’s a new building - much nicer, and bigger. It’s even a closer stop than the old place. Founder Kuzuryuu lectures you on history and religion and occultism, and the overlap between all three. You’re still not sure how much you buy what he’s saying, not seriously, but you know not to say so. There’s no mistaking his conviction that what he’s telling you is the absolute truth - your mom’s ‘metaphor’ theory has long been shattered for you.

You decide not to tell her this. You don’t think she’d take it all that well, and really it’s not important. Even if he believes in it, it’s not like just that’ll make it true. So you just keep your mouth shut and memorize his lessons like you’re supposed to.

Learning that stuff isn’t exactly easy, but you can do it just fine. It’s mostly memorization, after all. Even the more formal language you’re supposed to use, you’ve been able to get used to by now. The really tricky part is the way he wants you to act. Before it was just enough to sit still and talk confidently at the meetings. But now...

“A true maiden of the Shomonkai can’t allow herself to be swayed,” he tells you, “Not by outsiders’ lies, or by their own emotions.” He tries to teach you to sit still and stay calm, to show no fear or anger. It’s hard. You have to practice holding a perfectly straight face, and if you so much as twitch he scolds you and makes you hold it longer and longer. Even if you get hungry or have to go to the bathroom, you’re not allowed to move. You had to sit like that for over three hours once because you had a cold and kept coughing.

At first it made you mad. You yelled at him, refused to go along with it, over and over. And every time, he just looked at you, perfectly neutral, and said that you could stop at any time, if you were willing to leave the Shomonkai. And every time you would eventually sit back down, take a deep breath, and try again.

You don’t tell your mom about this either. You know she wouldn’t let you keep doing this if she knew, no matter what you were earning. And you’ve already given up school for this (and that was a fight you’re in no hurry to revisit) - you can’t back down now.

After four months of this, when you’ve gotten pretty good, you meet Kazuya Minegishi.

You don’t know how long he’s been coming to the meetings; the group’s so big now, you can’t possibly remember everyone every time. Even the higher ups, other than Azuma, you’re still learning to keep straight. But when you see him then, you can’t imagine having missed him before. After all, your first thought is that he’s just about the coolest-looking guy you’ve ever seen - at least, outside of a movie or magazine - with his easy smile and the careless way his hair falls over his deep blue eyes.

Your second thought, when he says to the Founder, “I can help you summon His Majesty,” is that he’s completely nuts.

Founder Kuzuryuu is also pretty skeptical, but as Kazuya explains himself and his ideas - something about translating runes to computers? or music? you try to keep up, you really do, but he’s explaining fast and it’s obvious he and the Founder both understand way more easily than you - he softens, and excitement starts to seep into his face. By the end, the Founder’s shaking his hand, and promising every available resource the Shomonkai has at its disposal to make this plan a reality.

He smiles and, before he leaves, turns and offers his hand out to you too.

“Guess we’ll be working together then. Nice to meet you properly, Yuzu.”

The casual use of your first name, without even the title of ‘Lady’ that the other members use for you, makes your heart jump. Even if he is crazy. You shake his hand, reminding yourself not to smile, not to blush, to just say, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

 

* * *

 

God, it’s so _aggravating_ how little anyone tells you.

Fine, maybe it’s true that you don’t understand anything about computers, and only as much about demons as the Founder tells you, but you feel like you’re being kept completely in the dark, while a _whole team_ of Shomonkai members are working with Kazuya directly. Asking the Founder about what’s going on yields nothing but, “I’ll tell you when it’s time,” and Azuma is equally reticent.

You’d try to ask Kazuya himself, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time at the Shomonkai, even though he’s supposed to be working for you. When he does come by, he’s usually too busy running tests to chat with you for long. And when you do get the chance, you always wind up talking to him about other things instead. _Normal_ things, like music and tv - stuff you haven’t had as much time for since you’ve been working. Stuff like you talked to your friends from school about, before you split from them and texting just wasn’t enough to keep connected. Sometimes he even sneaks you new issues of your favorite magazines before getting back to work. You can’t read them in front of Founder Kuzuryuu, of course, but Kazuya keeps him pretty occupied these days.

He’s really always so nice to you. You think he’d even tell you what’s going on if you asked him, but you like the normal conversations you have so much, and they’re already so short. You can’t quite make yourself give one up for information you might not really get anyway. You’ve missed being able to talk to someone like this way too much.

So you just wait, watch what you can, encourage the Shomonkai members who are doing their own part, and when you go home at the end of the day you still don’t tell your mom anything. She wasn’t picked to help on this project - even if you wanted to tell her how weird it is, you aren’t allowed.

...You don’t really talk to your mom much these days either.

After a few weeks of keeping an eye on the progress, a girl you don’t recognize at all starts showing up. They don’t let you talk to her - almost _no one_ talks to her, other than Azuma and the Founder. When you mention her to Kazuya, because it’s so over-the-top _bizarre_ that you can’t help it, even he admits he’s hardly seen her.

“She’s helpful, for sure,” he says with a bemused look on his face, “But I wish they’d coordinate the schedule better.”

When she stops coming, you don’t get the chance to ask Kazuya, or anyone else, why. By the time you notice she hasn’t shown up again in a while, the Founder comes to you, all smiles.

“Lady Yuzu,” he says, arms wide, “It’s finally time for your part.”

When he says that, all thoughts of the mysterious girl vanish. _Finally_ , you’ll actually get to do something! They won’t be able to keep you in the dark anymore! You catch yourself before you start to smile, and bow your head to him. “Of course, whatever you need.”

 

* * *

 

_Heat. Blinding heat. That’s all you can feel. Until the claws. Or are they thorns? They scratch at something inside you, burrow deep and cling until you’re sure they’ve punctured your heart._

_You move without knowing why you’re moving. You can’t see anything through the light._

_You remember music. A pattern on the ground. Your need to do this right, strong enough to push out your doubt. The fire, the heat, it’s too much, you can’t think through it. You want to cry, but feel your mouth pulled back into a smile wide enough to hurt instead._

_There’s more pain beyond the heat and your smile, but it doesn’t feel real. It’s someone else hurting in your body, not you. You don’t know how long it is until feel yourself crumple to the ground, still without seeing_

_The light turns to black and you don’t think at all._

 

* * *

 

It was a success, they tell you. You’ve channeled His Majesty’s servant, Jezebel. Her power is yours now to call upon, whenever you wish it.

You _don’t_ wish it. You don’t want this thing inside you - and you can feel her, her movements and the fire she carries and her thorns burying themselves tighter and tighter into you. You want to go home, tell your mom everything and never, ever come back. But even beyond your training, Jezebel’s thorns keep you still as the Founder speaks.

It will be time soon, to destroy the barrier protecting Tokyo. To take the next step in combatting God’s trial. You can’t laugh at the idea any more. You were wrong, you were always wrong. The world is really full of monsters and a God exists who needs to be fought and conquered for the world to be safe again. You don’t argue, as scared as you are and as much as you wish you had said ‘no’ when you still had a chance to.

The Founder’s words were always true. And there’s no point to the power you’re carrying now if you don’t follow his plan.

 

* * *

 

You don’t see Kazuya again until after the fight. Apart from that, you haven’t left the Shomonkai headquarters in a while. They’ve given you your own room to rest in while you recover, and even though Azuma keeps reporting that your mom wants to see you, you keep turning her away. Jezebel was too strong, creeping into your thoughts and actions before you could stop her. You understand now, why the Founder was so strict, why you had to learn to stay still and calm no matter what - it was still a constant struggle to keep her restrained. Jezebel’s been quieter lately, but you still haven’t gone home. You’re still scared, you just can’t risk letting your mom see you like that.

But Kazuya already knows about all this. There’s nothing to hide. It’s a relief, to be able to talk to him.

You don’t bother trying to talk about anything normal. Normal doesn’t have anything to do with you anymore. What you want now is information - what he’s been doing, what’s going to happen next - and he gives it to you. He explains exactly how the barrier falling will affect Tokyo, what the COMPs he’s been working on are going to do, and how when the trial begins everyone will be able to use them.

It’s probably for the best you waited to ask, you tell yourself. You wouldn’t have believed him if he’d explained everything to you before anyway. You ask, because you can’t not, if Jezebel’s going to be inside you forever.

“No. I promise, by the end of the trial, she’ll be gone too.”

He looks at you, direct and steady, when he gives that answer. You decide you believe him.

You don’t mean to ask anything else after that, but one more slips out, more a breath than a question. “Why did you want to do any of this, anyway?”

His expression doesn’t change - his smile stays and his deep blue eyes look at you as calm as ever. But it’s a few seconds before he answers, and there is a weight to the pause that makes you uneasy.

“Why else?” he finally says, “I just think Kuzuryuu has the right idea, more or less. Thought we could give each other a hand.” It’s about as reasonable an answer as you could expect in this situation, but you feel a little bit... disappointed, almost. You think - no, you’re sure - that there’s more to it than that, and you want to press, but he stands before you can say anything.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says, “You just get some rest for now, alright?” You almost try to push for answers anyway, but, well... if he noticed you’re beat, he’s right. So you nod, and swallow an embarrassed sputter when he pats your head before leaving. In spite of everything, you just want to bury your face in your pillow and scream-

_‘Abel is still quite a thoughtful boy, I see.’_

-and now you want to scream for an entirely different reason.

_‘My apologies. I did not mean to startle you. I am the angel Remiel.’_

You _should_ scream, or try to find the Founder, but... for some reason, you aren’t really afraid. The voice is so different from Jezebel’s - it’s softer. Kinder, you think. You take a deep breath. “Why can I hear you?”

_‘I am helping to suppress Jezebel within you. I can communicate to your soul directly.’_

Okay. So you’ve got an angel _and_ a demon hiding inside you. That really seems like something you should really tell the Founder, but something else is bugging you.

“Why did you call Kazuya ‘Abel’?” You know the reference - the Bible was one of the first things you were taught, even back before you took the position on permanently.

 _‘I know the name of his soul before the name of his incarnation.’_ Before you can even think the word ‘incarnation, Remiel continues. _‘He is the Abel you have read of, yes.’_

Just like that, any impulse to go out and tell the Founder about this was gone. This knowledge takes what little strength you had left and shuts it down. You’d protest that it couldn’t be possible, but you couldn’t doubt much of anything right now. And you don’t think angels can lie...

 _‘It is a tragedy, to see our Father’s beloved child going to such lengths to fight Him.’_ He sounds sad... you didn’t think angels could feel that way, they were supposed to be above that kind of thing. That’s what the Founder made it sound like, anyway. _‘If he would only listen to His voice, trust in His plans, there would be no need for the trial to lead to such suffering.’_

“What... what do you mean?”

A pause. _‘Abel has always been a very tender-hearted child. Even towards his elder brother, his murderer, he grieves over the punishment God has placed upon him. Such compassion is admirable, but he has let it cloud his judgement and tarnish his faith. He sees only his brother, and denies his Father.’_

His brother? Then Cain was alive and walking around too? You try to remember what the punishment was supposed to be, but your mind’s reeling from everything that’s just been dropped on you and you can barely think straight. You try to ground yourself, ask the most important thing, “So- wait, if there’s a better way to end the trial, why don’t I just tell him?”

_‘He will not listen. He has chosen to deafen himself to the word of our Lord. The way things are, he will drag all of humanity down the path of destruction out of stubbornness and misplaced loyalty.’_

“That can’t be true!” you burst out, not caring if anyone outside hears you, “He’s really nice, you said it yourself, he’ll understand if I just explain, and everything - it’ll be okay! It has to...” You feel like crying, over the weight of what you’re being told, the hopelessness of the angel’s words, your own helplessness. You try to swallow it down. If you start now, over this, you don’t know if you’ll be able to stop again.

After a few moments of silence, Remiel speaks again. _‘My apologies. I did not wish to upset you... you care very much for him, don’t you?’_

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks at the bluntness of the question, but you nod. Of course you do.

_‘You are right, though. It is not hopeless. There is another way to help him return to us.’_

Your reaction is immediate. “What is it?”

_‘His brother holds much power and remembers little. He may listen where Abel will not - if you can convince him to return to us and follow our Lord, then Abel will likely see his own folly as well. You can save both of them, and all of humanity will be blessed.’_

“...I can?”

_‘Yes.’_

At that one word, you feel more relieved than you’ve been in months. The Founder was wrong after all - God could not be as cruel as he thought, if he sent you an angel to help you overcome the trial. As soon as you can, you should go share what you know now with Founder Kuzuryuu and...

... and you think of the conviction that he speaks of his plans with. Everything he’s poured into this scheme. Jezebel who still sleeps inside you, waiting for her master’s voice to command her and the rest of the Shomonkai.

...

No. You shouldn’t tell him. Not yet. The trial was still to come, and you still didn’t know what form it’s going to take, or what exactly you’ll actually have to do to end it. You don’t even know what Kazuya’s brother looks like, or if he’ll cooperate - no, no, of course he will! If he’s Kazuya’s brother, then you’re sure he’ll listen to you when he realizes how important it is. And you’re sure that he’ll want to help Kazuya too, once he understands.

You’ll tell the Founder and the rest of the Shomonkai everything eventually. But right now, you need to listen to Remiel’s voice, get as many answers out of him as you can. Then you'll go and demand more information from the Founder as well - he can't keep shutting you out, not at this point. Not after everything you've done for him. And who knows? It might be nice, you think, with just a bit of a smile, to be the one who knows everything for a change.


	6. Aggregation

When you tell your friends which high school you’re applying to, they laugh like you’ve just told the greatest joke in the world. And it is a joke, though not the way they’re thinking.

Seriously, it’s funny your parents think acting like they give a shit about your life now matters. How they really think they’re doing you a favor, trying so hard to push you into a school that won’t take your middle school records into account. Hilarious, honestly. A high school that only considers your entrance exam score might be your best shot, sure, but there’s only one in the area, and you’ve seen enough of the students to know what your future classmates will be like. Stuffy, university-focused, with no time or interest in doing anything but studying and tearing at each other over a couple of points.

In other words, boring.

At first, the looming threat of it all is nearly enough to get you to blow off your exams completely. They can make you sit in your room with a workbook in front of you - hell, they can force you into the exam if they really wanted to - but they can’t make you try. You could just sit there for the whole exam period without ever filling in a single answer. It’s a tempting thought, when you imagine the look on your parents’ faces. The time you could get them and your dear eldest brother to waste on you.

But as tempting as it is to fulfill their lowest expectations of you, your friends’ reactions clinches it. As boring as the school’s going to be, the thought of spending three more years with this group is even worse. You’ve hit the point where you’ve gotten as much as you can - money, drinks, nights out, attention - and there’s nothing left of them that interests you. Any more would require an investment in each other that just isn’t there. It’s just easier for you to shed one group of friends, and grow a new one. And easier to do that at a high school where you won’t be running into the old any time soon.

Gin doesn’t laugh, at least, and you do appreciate that. Though not enough to say so to his face, and certainly not enough to change your mind.

* * *

Sure enough, it’s your victory. The exam was easy enough to pass with flying colors. Your friends gaped appropriately when you gave them the news, and your parents acknowledged your acceptance with stiff relief. And your eldest brother finally stops breathing over your shoulder, thank fuck. A couple of your youngest siblings even seem impressed, which you can’t quite discern as being sincere, or just the cynicism already getting to them.

Middle school ends, and high school starts more or less as you expected. But even in just your homeroom, you can already see frustration in the eyes of some of your classmates. A few boys and girls unable to sit still, with uniforms not quite neat enough, some even wearing accessories openly. Almost makes you wish you’d worn your earrings, but you hadn’t quite dared taken them  out of hiding until you were certain your parents and brother had stopped checking your room for ‘distractions’. You’d already lost plenty of allowances replacing all the things of your’s they’d thrown out.

No matter. Maybe starting to wear them later on will work better. Once you’re settled into a group, they might find it endearing if they think you’re imitating them.

But as you look around to gauge your classmates, there’s one kid a few rows up that keeps catching your eye. It’s hard to say what it is about him. Looks-wise he’s not bad - (okay, maybe better than ‘not bad’, he’s easily the tallest in your class, and that white hair could be striking if he spent two minutes on it) - but he seems pretty straight-laced and gives off a strong vibe of ‘don’t talk to me’. And he’s already got his nose in a book. You want to roll your eyes. A guy who studies before school even starts isn’t likely to be of any interest.

But still... you can’t shake this feeling about him. If anyone asked you to put it into words, you’d compare it to the first time you snuck out of the house after dark. Or like finding out the neighbors next door moved away because there’d been accidents and strange sights in the building. A thread of suspense and anticipation that keeps creeping up on you every time you see him. Over the course of the day, you suspect some of your classmates can tell something’s off too, even if no one’s saying anything.

You’re pretty sure, though, that you’re the only one getting hooked on it.

* * *

It takes about a couple of weeks before you find out that guy - Naoya Minegishi - is not actually studying. You’d already started testing the waters of a new circle of classmates, but your curiosity towards him hasn’t abated. And not just him, but that Amane girl too. You’d have thought him too prickly for anyone to bother with, even for a study partner, but you keep catching them together, quietly talking and pouring over some book or another. Not a friendship out of desperation either.  Amane’s quiet, but it wouldn’t be hard for her to make friends if she tried.

You just couldn’t help but want to get a feel for what kind of relationship they have. So when your own group starts chatting about plans for the weekend, you smile, nod, and try to keep your ears focused on what those two are doing. And when you overhear the kind of things they talk about, your interest spikes. History. Old legends. Foreign gods you know only in the vaguest of ideas or not at all. Different tellings of the same legends, comparing and trying to dig into what the truth might be. They’re talking so seriously about it, so earnestly. You almost have to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from grinning. It’s adorable.

You wonder what they’d think about some of the legends you’ve gathered over the years - of local haunts and spirits, rumored summoning methods and spells. You’ve learned to keep them to yourself outside of the occasional ghost story exchange (and even then, you’ve made your audience scream, but never gotten them to take any seriously once the fear’s worn off), but you’ve never stopped collecting.

So you make up your mind, and one day as the classroom’s emptying and they’re still lingering, absorbed in their conversation, you plop yourself down in a desk next to them and interject. “Wow, so tricking and tying up the giant wolf just made it angry? You don’t say.”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction you expected to get from them. Annoyance, probably. Though the sharp distrust in Naoya’s eyes when he looks at you isn’t exactly a surprise. Amane’s reaction is more restrained, but you’re pretty sure she’s more curious than anything, and she’s the one who asks, “So then you think the gods were wrong to try and cut off a threat ahead of time?”

“I’m just saying,” you shrug, “Punishing someone for something they haven’t done yet isn’t a great way to make friends. No surprise it backfired.”

The suspicion recedes a bit, replaced with a spark of interest. A grin spreads across your face as Naoya starts to make a retort, and you know you’re in.

* * *

 

It’s early enough in the year that the classmates you’d been hanging out with don’t notice the way you phase out of their circle. Not completely - being one part of a trio makes you less inconspicuous than you were in a larger group, and you refuse to be quieter just to balance it out - but you could care less about a couple of snide comments.

They’re both so much more fun than you could have expected. They know more of these stories than you’d ever heard, and you could look them up on your own, but you like hearing them talk about them first. Their stances are similar, but there’s undeniable differences. Naoya doesn’t trust the idea of gods because humans have no real power to face them, Amane doesn’t trust the idea of unchecked power because of the danger and corruption it carries.

You could pry this gap into a chasm if you wanted. Something like that would be fun to watch, for sure. But you don’t want to risk getting kicked out for causing problems. Not when you’ve only just got started.

Instead, you find neither of them are in a club or, you quickly pick up on, like being at home very much. Perfect. You know the city like the back of your hand, and are more than happy to show them some of your favorite places. The remains of a building lost to a fire, supposedly crawling with the ghosts of those who’d been trapped inside. An old shrine, forgotten and half-rotted with no signs of it’s original purpose. A block where a faceless woman is said to walk at midnight, looking for pretty girls. You know a thousand stories and rumors, and you’ve finally got the audience for them you’ve always wanted.

Naoya tries to poke as many holes in your stories as you do his, but you don’t mind. It keeps you on your feet, lets you develop you own elaborations and make the tales your own. Amane’s less critical, though no less attentive. You think she actually believes some of your stories, to an extent. Unexpected from such a tight-laced girl. You can’t help wondering if perhaps she’s got some reason to. They’re the most fun you’ve had in ages. And both of them just get more adorable the more you find out about them. Whether it’s Naoya’s taste for sweets or surprisingly short fuse, Amane’s adoration for pop music or the dead seriousness with which she holds her beliefs, you can’t help but get more and more attached to them.

So can anyone blame you if you get a bit protective?

Amane’s not exactly what you’d call popular, not in the usual sense of the word, but she’s well-respected. And very pretty. Anyone can see that, though she doesn’t pay that kind of attention much mind. But a few months into the second term, you start catching a second-year boy being a little too dogged with his attention. He won’t take accept the ‘no’ he’s been given, and keeps finding excuse after excuse to pop up and trail after her. Even after Amane stops bothering to hide how little patience she has left for him.

Well, if he needs a more forceful discouragement, you’re more than happy to offer one.

Your plan isn’t especially elaborate, but it doesn’t have to be. Really, this guy is laughably sloppy - did he really think a hidden pocket in his school bag would hide those creep shots for long? Someone was going to find out eventually. You just helped expedited the process. You doubt any teacher would take you seriously, so you decide to enlist Naoya’s help with the second part. A week of anonymous e-mails and threatening notes in his desk and bag, and the second-year stops following Amane. The week after, he stops coming to school. You even hear a rumor that he’s transferring. Still, Naoya admits to being worried that it might not be a permanent solution.

“Then if we catch him turning up around here, we can just give him a little scare again.” You grin. “He’s a coward, it’s obvious. It won’t be hard to get him to give up if he tries again.”

“You certainly sound confident. Sure you won’t just get bored and forget in a month?”

“Please,” you laugh, “My plans are never boring. And, you have to admit, so very effective.”

He smiles a bit. “Well by all means, don’t go selling yourself short there, Loki.”

Loki - ah, right, you remember that name. A Norse trickster god. It was a Norse myth that you first barged in on, too. Your grin widens. “Y’know, that has a nice ring to it. I think I like it.”

Naoya gives you a blank look. “What-?”

“And you know, I’ve been thinking for a while, we’re waaay too close for formalities by now,” you sling an arm around his shoulders, walking him back to the classroom, “That means nicknames!”

He stares, mouth a hard line, but doesn’t shrug you off. “No thanks.”

“Fine, fine, then it’ll just have to be ‘Naoya’. But I expect you to use mine!” He starts to argue, but you turn up your nose, “Not gonna answer to anything else.”

“And that’s supposed to be a deterrent?” He snorts. After a moment, though, he sighs, “Whatever, after all that I guess you deserve something. But we’re even now, okay?”

Even the way he thinks is cute, all that caution and calculation. And you’re going to worm your way into that head of his one way or another. Your smile widens as you tighten your grip on him and drop your chin to his shoulder. He finally does shove you off.

* * *

You don’t get to meet the infamous Kazuya for almost a year.

Oh sure, you get to meet Naoya’s parents a couple of months in (and that was a fun evening; you’re pretty sure if you said ‘boo’ when they got a look at you, they’d have jumped a foot in the air), but that just makes it weirder. After all, Naoya talks about this guy all the time. Not extensively or anything, sure, but seriously, you’ve been trying to keep a count of ‘days without mentioning Kazuya’, and so far three’s the limit. His cousin doesn’t even live with, he moved out way back when Naoya was in middle school. But he’s still an almost constant presence, like a ghost himself. And Naoya’s never even bothered to introduce you to him. So rude.

You get Amane skipping out on introducing you to her dad, although you kinda wish she would. What she’s told you makes the idea of giving him as much of a scare as you gave Naoya’s parents infinitely appealing. But he’s hardly even around, and she won’t tell you anything about where he might be, so you’re stuck on that front.

But as for Kazuya, well. You figure out pretty fast that there’s only one reason Naoya may be busy on any given weekend. And when he keeps avoiding introducing you, isn’t it only natural to want to take matters into your own hands? So there’s really no reason at all for him to look so surprised when you run into him at the train station.

He tries to shake you, but no amount of glares or sarcasm could make you miss out on this chance, and you succeed at tagging along all the way to a set of cheap apartments near one of the local universities.

“Seriously, could you back off?” He growls at the foot of a flight of stairs, “This isn’t any of your business.” 

You grin. “Well sure! I can go. After all, there’s plenty of time to drop by again when you aren’t here. I’m sure your cousin would just love a visit from one of your friends, don’t you think?”

He grimaces, and you get the feeling you’ll be paying for this stunt one way or another, but at last he sighs in defeat and lets you follow him to the third floor. Fourth door down. You make sure to keep that in mind.

Naoya’s barely knocked twice before the door opens - guy sure doesn’t waste time - and oh. Oh wow. Hello there, tall and blue-eyed. The guy you assume is Kazuya grins. “Hey Naoya. You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone with you."

“I didn’t bring him anywhere,” Naoya huffs, stepping inside, “He’s just a stupid stray I couldn’t shake.”

“Hey, nice t’ meet you!” You say, following after to sling yourself over Naoya’s shoulders and paying no mind to anything he said, “You can call me Loki - I’m guessing you’re Kazuya, right? Naoya talks about you a~ll the time.”

Kazuya smirks, glances at Naoya. “Oh really?”

Naoya shrugs you off more aggressively than you expected. “I do not. Shut up already.” He’s even more on edge than usual, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you or his cousin. Or both. Yeah, both seems likely.

Kazuya doesn’t pay it any mind, just gives a quick laugh and asks, “So, what is it this time?” 

“Just being the messenger. Mom wants to make sure you come for dinner on Thursday. You forgot this week again.”

“Ahh, sorry,” he says, not sounding especially sincere, “Just got caught up in work again. Lost track of the date.”

Naoya rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Your ‘work’.”

“I’m serious!”

“If you’re gonna make up excuses to avoid visiting, ‘I got a big programming job’ is a pretty shit one.”

“What, don’t you have any faith in me?”

“It’s not exactly a question of faith when just two weeks ago, you wouldn’t use the microwave because the clock had glitched and you didn’t know how to reset it.”

You snort. Naoya shoots you a dirty look. Kazuya, though, looks perfectly unfazed by either of you. “And you did such a good job fixing it for me. I already said thanks for that.” Naoya opens his mouth again, but Kazuya holds up a hand, “Seriously, though, I’ll come by this week for sure. Promise.”

Naoya relaxes a little, lets out a huff. “Fine. Then that’s all. C’mon, Loki.”

“What? We just got here.” You pout, “I haven’t gotten to talk to him at all yet.”

“Yes, and we’re keeping it that way.” He starts trying to push you towards the door, which is kind of hilarious. You’re not exactly stacked yourself, but he’s scrawny enough to make you look downright impressive. You could just dig in your heels and let him try, but you get another idea.

“Well in that case,” you say, pulling out your phone and grinning at Kazuya, “How about if we trade numbers? I’d just love to get to know Naoya’s dear older brother better.”

You hear Naoya sputtering behind you, but Kazuya just glances at him quickly before taking out his own phone and trading. “Sounds like a good idea. Naoya hardly ever talks about school with me.” You’ve hardly gotten your number in when Naoya jams his elbow into your back. You yelp, almost drop the phone. Fuck, that actually hurt. You weren’t sure he had it in him. You turn to pout at him, but one look at him and you can’t quite speak.

“We’re leaving,” he hisses, grabbing you by the collar and dragging you out the second Kazuya returns your phone. You’re startled enough to let him. Kazuya snickers behind you and follows you two to the door.

“Talk to you later then. And see you Thursday, Naoya!” You catch him waving before Naoya hauls you down the stairs.

He lets go of you once you’re both back on the sidewalk, but doesn’t say anything. In fact, he continues to give you the silent treatment almost the entire way to the train station, right until your phone rings. A text from Kazuya, testing to make sure the number’s in right.

“Well,” he finally says, glancing over at you, “You two certainly get along.”

“Hard to say, I barely got to speak to him at all.”

Naoya snorts. “Please. He’s like a hermit, hardly even uses his phone, but he gave you his number right off the bat. And you were practically drooling over him the second you saw him. Trust me, you weren’t subtle.” 

Oh.

_Oh._

A grin starts spreading across your face slowly. “What, are you jealous?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin, and whips around to growl, “ _Don’t be stupid_.” Oh god, his glare is so adorable. You can’t help it. You have to tease him.

“It’s okay, I can understand why, I am quite a catch,” you nod, “Of course you wouldn’t want me getting snatched up by just anyone.”

He stares at you, lets out a long groan and rubs at his forehead. “You’re so... whatever, let’s just catch the train.”

“Well don’t you worry about a thing,” you say, trailing after as he starts to walk off without you. He’s ignoring you, but that’s fine, you’ll just have to prod hard enough to get him to turn back around. You tuck your phone back into your pocket - answering it can come later. “You’re still my favorite, promise.”

* * *

 

The summer comes before you know it. You have a bunch of plans for this year - last time Naoya spent almost the whole thing indoors, despite your’s and Amane’s best attempts at getting him to come outside. First year had been even worse. But not this time! Not with that string of murders going around. I mean, sure, it wasn’t a good thing that people were getting killed, but come on. Bodies drained of all their blood? Sounds pretty supernatural to you, and Amane agreed. Even Naoya, who’s usually more skeptical about these kinds of things, had gotten pretty interested in the whole thing.

In fact, you were trying to get details on the locations of the last couple of murder sites, when you received a text from Kazuya.

_Have something to give you three. Very important. Can you all meet with me next week?_

Of course, you answer yes right away. A mysterious strain of murders to check out, and now a chance to hang out with Kazuya. That settled it. This summer, you’re certain, is going to be anything but boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient and waiting for this chapter! This is the last chapter for this AU that I planned out ahead of time, and I've been puzzling over how to proceed from here. Especially since there have been a couple of drabbles that I've written, but haven't fit the format or purpose of 'Balance Point'. So, my plan (for now at least) is end this particular fic here, and anything new I write for this AU will go into a new story/collection.
> 
> Again, thank you all very much for reading and commenting! I'm not good at replying to them, but I read and appreciate them all. :)


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